


Heartless

by Alexander_L



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Humor, First Kiss, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Opera Date, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), TW: mentioned torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28509177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_L/pseuds/Alexander_L
Summary: Ferdinand’s smile faded and he scowled at Hubert for a long moment then slapped something down on the desk in front of him so forcefully it rattled the teacups and Hubert jumped.“What the-!”“Since pleasantries are wasted on the unpleasant, I will cut straight to the point. These are opera tickets. Two of them.”Hubert glanced down at the tickets and back up at Ferdinand in confusion. “I fail to see the-”“The Last Eve of Spring has been sold out in advance for months ever since they announced its return to the theaters of Enbarr. I have, through much ingenuity and perseverance, managed to procure two tickets. And, fool that I am, I would rather go with you than anyone else. So will you?”A bit stunned at how aggressively Ferdinand had spoken the words, Hubert blinked at him for a moment and asked, “Will I what?”“You aggravating man! Come with me!"
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Edelgard von Hresvelg & Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 40
Kudos: 152





	1. Act One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FallenCiatokins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenCiatokins/gifts).



> This was born from a fic commission giveaway that was supposed to be a oneshot but the story ran away with me. Thank you ciatokins for your patience! And thank you for all the amazing Edelgard and Hubert content that you create. You've really deepened my understanding of the characters and I've enjoyed reading your work and discussing the characters and stories with you a lot!

Ridiculous. That’s what it was. An insufferable inconvenience, one Hubert had avoided his entire life until now. Ridiculous that it should come after all these years to blindside him. Ridiculous that he did not have the control over his own thoughts to eradicate it. Ridiculous that of everyone it was _him_.

He scoffed at the disdainful absurdity of the whole situation.

“And what are you _tcha!_ -ing at so scornfully?” Ferdinand von Aegir, the cursed man himself, asked.

“You.”

Ferdinand sighed. “What have I done now?”

“Exist,” Hubert answered, for that truly was the problem. It was not anything Ferdinand even did anymore that infatuated him. He had merely to exist in his presence and Hubert’s attention was unwillingly bound to him.

“I apologize; that is an offense I have no ability to reconcile at the moment, for I must live at least long enough to finish these croissants or Mercedes’s exemplary baking will be wasted,” Ferdinand replied, after all these years mostly impervious to anything he said.

Hubert picked up one of the croissants and took a resentful bite. Damn were they good. She made ones filled with almonds and spices specifically to go well with coffee and it was one of the many reasons he had come to believe that Mercedes von Martritz was too good for this world and Adrestria did not deserve her.

“You know, there used to be only one chair in my office and it was specifically to prevent such situations as these,” Hubert said.

“And yet there is now a second, perfectly suited to me and upholstered in my favorite color,” Ferdinand said.

Hubert looked at the blue paisley armchair and wondered, yet again, why he had fallen for the kind of man who would choose such an abomination and who would have the audacity to place it in his office without his consent.

“Why exactly is it that you deposited it here and refuse to remove it despite my repeated requests to do so?” he asked.

“Because your sunny disposition makes work more pleasant,” Ferdinand answered without glancing up from the paperwork he was perusing.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath.

Ferdinand gave him an amused smile and said, “The truth is that I am curious how long it will take before you resort to removing me and the chair by force and placing a specifically crafted Aegir-blocking ward across your doorway.”

“When I finally finish concocting one I will cast it forthwith without hesitation.”

“Pity. The lighting in your office is better than mine and I find it an amenable environment to work in despite the annoyance seething from your presence like miasma.”

Hubert noticed a tinge of hurt in his teasing words and he set down his cup of coffee and gave Ferdinand a look that while perhaps not apologetic by any means was at least conciliatorily neutral.

“As we have been forced as of late to work more closely together than we did during the war, it is helpful to work in proximity to you instead of sending messages back and forth from each other’s offices. I will endeavor to not hamper your work by being unnecessarily dour,” he offered.

“Thank you, Hubert. I think you and I have always made a good team when we deign to set aside our petty complaints.”

“We do,” he conceded and told himself that he said it simply because it was the truth and not because it brought a genuine smile to Ferdinand’s face.

Pleasing Ferdinand and placating his feelings were none of his concern after all.

“Your tea has gone cold,” he said and picked up Ferdinand’s cup, heating it with a glow of fire magic until it was warm again. He placed the cup back on the saucer and Ferdinand took a sip with a grateful _mmm_ , continuing to focus diligently on his work.

Distracted by reading, Ferdinand spilled the tea just slightly and Hubert watched in physical pain as his tongue glided across his lips to catch the errant drop. Ferdinand set his teacup down and bowed his head a bit to squint at some small text, his hair slipping across his shoulders to hang in tantalizing waves around his face. Hubert’s fingers twitched as his traitorous imagination caused the phantom sensation to ghost across them of touching it, of tangling his hands in those amber locks and feeling the silk-smooth strands entrap his fingers.

Unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable. He could not be expected to work in such conditions.

“Please, feel free to remain here. But I must attend to an errand,” Hubert said with a curt nod, all but fleeing his office before Ferdinand could do more than look up at him in concern.

“Hey, Hubie!” Dorothea said in the hallway as she caught sight of him. “Guess what I-”

“No,” he said and vanished with a warp spell.

He materialized in the privacy of his chamber and staggered from the gut-wrenching disorientation of a hasty warp. Lurching off balance, he stumbled and ended up on his hands and knees on the floor, gasping for breath as the poorly-cast spell took its toll for a moment on his body.

A fierce ache stabbed at his chest and he slammed his fist into the floorboards, bruising his knuckles and tearing scratches into his gloves. He stared down at his hands and nausea twisted his stomach but this time it was not from magic.

Revolting. That was what his lack of control was. He was not immune to follies and flaws; he did not expect himself to be without emotion. Indeed such heartlessness would be a weakness in and of itself. These feelings he harbored, feelings of loyalty and courage and affection, of pain and despair even… They were necessary. They fueled him, grounded him deeply to his humanity lest he stray too far into the darkness within which he had spent much of his life.

He allowed himself to keep this part of his nature and not wilfully cut it away the way he had excised many other aspects of himself such as fear, innocence and doubt. He allowed the emotions that remained because he swore to himself that he would keep them under control.

His control was slipping with Ferdinand. 

He laughed bitterly.

Slipped? It had all but shattered. Frankly, he was one reckless moment away from-

“Damn me,” he muttered.

Pushing himself up from the floor, he walked over to his table and poured a glass of water from the bottle there. After he had drunk enough to steady his lightheadedness and switched his damaged gloves for a clean pair, he brushed the dust from the knees of his pants and took a deep breath, looking himself over in the mirror to make sure no trace of his breakdown remained anywhere in his appearance.

His gaze caught on the dark circles under his eyes and the lines of his face, grown more rigid lately from stress to the point where they might be described even as _gaunt_. He looked like a ghost or goblin in an illustration from a child’s book, almost comically grim. 

Most cruelly comical of all was the fact that he had a good enough respect for Ferdinand to know that he would not judge a person on their looks, should their character be admirable and enjoyable enough to him as to inspire his affection. Hubert knew it was not his unattractiveness that made him undesirable to Ferdinand. It was who he was on an incontrovertible level.

Determination hardened his expression and he turned away from the mirror.

He did not need to be loved. He did not require Ferdinand’s good opinion. He did not require _him_.

He had work to do.

Leaving his chamber, he strode purposefully back to his office. 

“Ah, Hubert, you have returned,” Ferdinand said as he opened the door and walked over to his desk. 

“Your powers of observation are unparalleled, Prime Minister.”

Ferdinand’s smile faded and he scowled at Hubert for a long moment then slapped something down on the desk in front of him so forcefully it rattled the teacups and Hubert jumped.

“What the-!”

“Since pleasantries are wasted on the unpleasant, I will cut straight to the point. These are opera tickets. Two of them.”

Hubert glanced down at the tickets and back up at Ferdinand in confusion. “I fail to see the-”

“ _The Last Eve of Spring_ has been sold out in advance for months ever since they announced its return to the theaters of Enbarr. I have, through much ingenuity and perseverance, managed to procure two tickets. And, fool that I am, I would rather go with you than anyone else. So will you?”

A bit stunned at how aggressively Ferdinand had spoken the words, Hubert blinked at him for a moment and asked, “Will I what?”

“You aggravating man! Come with me! Will you come with me or should I ask-”

“I’d be delighted,” he said, some kind of automatic response he remembered from the court etiquette lessons of his childhood that sprang to life unbidden in this moment and made him cringe. Delighted? He would be _delighted_? Hubert wanted to warp away again. 

Ferdinand’s quarrelsomeness vanished as swiftly as it had set on, his usual good nature replacing it as he grinned at Hubert and said, “Excellent! It is settled then. Meet me at the opera house tonight at seven.”

Hubert nodded. “Seven.”

“Do not be late.”

“The security reports for the week will likely take me some time to complete but if they are done in time, I can-”

Ferdinand gave him a look that Hubert imagined many soldiers saw the moment before the Spear of Assal ran them through. “Do not be late, Minister von Vestra.”

  
  


“Hubert,” Edelgard said, her brow furrowing in concern at his dejected aspect. “Stop looking so hopeless.”

“This can only end in disaster.”

“You are attending the opera, not going into battle,” she said.

Hubert nodded. “Indeed. Battle I am suited for. High society I am not.”

“Nonsense,” Edelgard said, reaching up to straighten his collar. “You are the right hand of the Emperor. High society fears you, not you it.” 

She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the pin on his cravat and Hubert caught her hands and stilled them. It was not her place to fuss over him. It was not her place to worry about him at all. It was inappropriate to the extreme to have confided his worries about the night to her at all. 

He had not meant to of course. Edelgard had just come to know him too well after all these years to be blind to his distress and she had not backed down with her questions until he admitted the whole situation to her, one hesitant pathetic confession at a time.

Taking his arm, Edelgard turned him around to face the mirror. “There. You look very handsome.”

He would have accepted _tolerable_ or even, due to the friendship that grown between him and Lady Edelgard over the years, the kindness of a compliment such as _acceptable_ . But _handsome_ was too much and the word _very_ was simply absurd.

He opened his mouth to protest but Edelgard glared into the mirror at him. “Don’t you dare argue with me.”

Hubert sighed.

“Why is it so unbelievable to you that someone who has fought beside you and known you for years would enjoy your company? You know Ferdinand considers you a friend. I think he even considers you his closest friend. How can you, the cleverest man in Adrestria, really be so dense as to think he detests you?” she asked.

“I do not think he detests me,” he answered. “Our old rivalries are more ironic these days than genuine; I know. Nonetheless, no matter what friendship exists between us, he is…” _Unattainable_. And wanting things that were unattainable was foolish, exhausting, and an unacceptable waste of one’s mental faculties. 

Hubert decided to explain it in a more pragmatic way to Edelgard. “Our positions are such that our ability to work harmoniously and effectively together is of utmost import to the stability of the Empire. Any act that would jeopardize the fine balance of my friendship with Ferdinand has an effect not just on myself, but on many others. This is an inescapable fact and to pretend otherwise is foolishness that I know both you and I are too wise to entertain.”

Edelgard’s expression fell and her hand clasped tighter around Hubert’s arm. For a long moment she was silent. Then she said quietly, “Sometimes I wish we had the luxury of being fools, because fools are happy and one of us deserves happiness. After all you have sacrificed for me, I wish that person to be you.”

Her words evoked an ache of empathy in Hubert’s chest and he patted her hand then pulled his arm out of her grasp. “There are many causes for sorrow in life, my lady. I will not allow myself to be one of them for you. Do not pity me. I promise you will not see me so wretched like this again.”

Edelgard studied his expression and said, “Don’t promise that I won’t _see_ you in distress. We have had enough of hiding things from each other, you and I.”

“Fine. I promise then that I will not let such trivial things distress me.”

“Matters of the heart are not trivial. Maybe they were during the war. But now they…” She looked away, her mind straying to something or rather _someone_ that Hubert knew she would not speak of openly, even to him. “Just go to the opera and drink some wine and try to enjoy yourself. For my sake if not for your own.”

“I will do my best.”

Walking over to his closet, Edelgard surveyed his selection of capes, all similar in style and identical in color, until she settled on one that was, for reasons beyond Hubert’s understanding, somehow better suited for the occasion than the others. She returned and handed it to him. 

“Do you remember that time my grandmother took us to the opera when we were children?” she asked out of the blue.

Hubert did not but he couldn’t bear to tell her that.

“You sulked all the way to the opera house. You were trying to hide it. A good retainer would never express distaste for his responsibilities and all that. But I could see it. You were too quiet,” she continued.

“I am always quiet,” Hubert pointed out.

“I know. I have had to learn to read all the different kinds of your quiet,” she said. “I could tell you were upset at being dragged along. But then the music started and you…” She smiled, her eyes faraway in the memory. “You looked stunned. I got bored and chattered at you and dozed on your shoulder but you stayed awake the whole time, listening with full attention. Did I ever tell you what my grandmother told me after that night?”

Hubert shook his head.

“She said that I was lucky I’d gotten a Vestra who wasn’t heartless, one who had a mind of his own,” Edelgard answered. She studied the look of understanding on Hubert’s face and added, “I know that your heart and your mind are devoted to our cause and to the work we have ahead of us, but there has always remained a part of you that is yours alone. I saw it when you would defy an order of mine because you felt it was in my best interests to do something else. I saw it when you formed friendships to the other Black Eagles despite the Vestra code of non-attachment.”

“What are you trying to say, my lady?” Hubert asked, although he felt like he already knew. 

“I’m saying that you are right in that taking any risks with Ferdinand might have consequences. But if the opportunity were ever to present itself, if you were to be certain that your feelings were reciprocated, you should follow your heart. You should be with him.” She shifted uncomfortably and glanced away, for even the intimacy that had developed between them did not usually warrant such frank conversations about personal topics. “You don’t need my permission, Hubert. Of course you don’t. But for what it’s worth, you have it nonetheless. You can think of it as my blessing, not my permission.”

A smile came to his lips, surprising himself slightly, but he let it linger instead of hiding it from Edelgard. When her gaze returned to his face she smiled too, a little self-consciously but with undeniable fondness.

“Thank you,” Hubert said. “It is irrelevant, for such an opportunity will surely never come to pass. But I am-” _Honored to have your blessing_ felt too formal a phrase and _touched_ felt too emotional, so Hubert merely trailed off and said again at last, “Thank you.”

He was spared from having to say anything else by Edelgard glancing at the clock and gasping, “It’s quarter past six! Go or you will be late!”

“And heavens forbid I be late,” he muttered.


	2. Act Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act Two: In which Hubert attends the opera with Ferdinand and Ferdinand, being a good friend, rallies to the occasion when the night ends with disposing dead bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the majority of the story; the final act is but a brief chapter through Edelgard's POV. I am so sorry this turned out so unimaginably long! The story I came up with for the prompt just took so damn long to tell and I didn't want to rush it! Thank you for bearing with me.

Ferdinand was not a vain man. Truly he was not. Well, not anymore. And yet… 

“The gold or the silver, Sylvain,” he begged, holding up the two different sets of cufflinks. “For the love of all that is holy, please just help me decide.”

Sylvain, who was slumped on the dressing room settee with his legs slung up over the back of it and an art book in his hands, merely heaved a sigh without looking up from the pages. 

He had been enthusiastic and supportive at first but his patience was obviously waning. Ferdinand could not even blame him. He knew he was fretting ridiculously. But he felt that if he did not fret he would simply explode from excitement and nervousness and frustration and affection and a dozen other emotions he did not have words for.

“I guarantee you, Hubert will not give a single fuck about your cufflinks, even should he notice them at all,” Sylvain answered.

To hell with it. In a fit of recklessness, Ferdinand just chose the silver ones and decided to be done with it. 

“There. Am I presentable?” he asked, studying his reflection.

Sylvain glanced up from his book at last and smiled. “Yeah. You’re going to be the envy of everyone there.”

Ferdinand looked at him in distress. “I do not wish to draw too much attention! Am I too formally dressed?” He returned his gaze to the mirror. “It is the jacket, isn’t it? I knew this shade of burgundy was a little too bold. I mentioned it to my tailor but he insisted-”

Jumping up from the settee, Sylvain walked over and clapped his hands on Ferdinand’s shoulders. “You invited me here because I am a man of impeccable taste so please, trust me when I say that you are flawlessly dressed and perfectly suited for the occasion.”

“I invited you because Lorenz was busy and Dorothea…” Ferdinand stopped himself, not wanting to be rude by revealing the list of friends whose moral support he had sought out first before eventually landing on Sylvain because the others had prior engagements. “Nevermind. Would you like a drink?”

“Oh gods yes,” Sylvain said, happily heading over to the bottle of brandy on the side table and pouring generous glasses for each of them.

“Not too much!” Ferdinand warned. “I must stay sharp.”

“You are entirely too sharp. What you need is to relax a bit. So sit down, have a drink, and take a few deep breaths.”

“Relax,” he repeated, perching on the edge of an armchair, his foot nervously tapping on the floor and his hands shaking slightly as he raised the glass of spirits to his lips. “Yes, that is a good idea. I will relax.” He inhaled and exhaled purposefully.

Sylvain took a sip of the fine brandy and smiled. “Listen here, Ferdie,” he said. “You’re a good-looking man. And by that I mean that you’ve got a smile that lights up a room and a body that I’m sure looks even more delicious naked than in those fine clothes, but Hubert he’s…”

Ferdinand stiffened, a little alarmed at wherever Sylvain was going with this.

“He’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t even bother to speak to someone he didn’t consider worth his time,” Sylvain continued. “I know this because he would hardly even acknowledge my existence for ages until I beat him at chess enough times he had to give me some begrudging respect. What I’m saying is that if you have gotten to the point where you are friends with Hubert, you’ve already won the battle. He wouldn’t let you get as close as he has if he didn’t respect and admire you. And to return to my original point, I guarantee that your looks, no matter how fine, have little to do with it. You won this battle because you have something all the other pretty faces and fancy suits out there don’t.”

“And what is that?” Ferdinand asked.

“The ability to truly befriend a man who probably didn’t even think he needed friends until he met you,” Sylvain answered. “And that’s pretty damn remarkable.”

Ferdinand blinked, a bit stunned at Sylvain’s speech and the fact it had ended up being quite encouraging. He was suddenly glad he had invited Sylvain. Perhaps he should spend more time with him, get to know him better. It would be nice to-

“I’ll warn you, though. I have an intuition for these kinds of things and I have a strong sense that Hubert is going to be a handful in bed, if you know what I mean,” Sylvain added. “When it comes time for fucking, if you need any advice on whatever strange fancies he has, you need only ask. I am a walking encyclopedia of-”

On the other hand, perhaps there was such a thing as too much Sylvain and there really was not a pressing need to invite him over again anytime soon.

“Oh saints, look at the time! It is half past six! I made Hubert swear not to be late. I cannot be late myself!” Ferdinand leapt to his feet and set down the glass with a clatter. “Drink all the brandy you want and enjoy my library, Sylvain! Thank you for your… advice.”

“Anytime!” Sylvain said, giving him a cheerful wave. “I’ll see myself out. Have fun, Ferdie! You meet any opera stars who take a shine to you, remember to tell them you know another lovable ginger with a great personality, almost as much money, and a bigger di-”

And Ferdinand closed the door behind him.

“Good heavens,” he muttered, hurrying out to the courtyard where his coachman waited.

The trip to the theater was spent mostly in wildly vacillating states of forced calm and manic fretfulness. Ferdinand could not explain, even to Sylvain, why he was so nervous. He had known Hubert for years, cultivated a close friendship with him despite both their best efforts to the contrary. But Hubert was not aware that he viewed this as anything more than a simple outing amongst friends. He had no idea that this night was going to be Ferdinand’s night for bravery and heaven help him, he was not going to back down from it.

Unless he was making a terrible mistake and setting himself up for catastrophic failure… 

But the longing looks from Hubert that Ferdinand had observed over the past while were not his imagination surely. Hubert was not as inscrutable anymore as he likely believed himself to be. Ferdinand felt strongly that his feelings were unlikely to be unrequited.

And yet what if they were?

But on the other hand, what if they were not and he assumed they were?

But what if he assumed they were not and he was right but Hubert was simply too incalcitrant in his ways to admit it or what if… 

The carriage lurched to a stop and Ferdinand swallowed back the nervousness threatening to make him feel ill.

“Get a hold of yourself, Ferdinand von Aegir,” he reprimanded and climbed out of the carriage.

He was early to the opening of the theater but as he approached the people thronging outside its doors, he caught sight of a familiar figure lurking on the edge of the crowd. Hubert cut such a striking image clad all in black and dressed to the nines that he could not help but stand out. Ferdinand noticed several people staring at him with expressions varying from respect to apprehension. And it also did not escape his notice that a couple young women were whispering about how dashing Hubert looked.

“Fancy meeting you here, Minister von Vestra,” he said with a teasing smile as he approached him.

Hubert shifted uncomfortably, a mannerism that reminded Ferdinand of a crow ruffling its feathers.

“You’re late,” he said.

“I am five minutes early.”

“I was twenty,” he muttered.

“You have been waiting here idly for twenty minutes?”

“Idle is not the case, I assure you. I have been hard at work,” he replied. “Our esteemed Prime Minister of Finance is standing over there and it appears Alfric Kleiman is his guest for the evening.”

“And snooping on them is work?” Ferdinand asked.

“It is when I happen to be in possession of the knowledge that Minister Erinor is deeply in debt with the gambling rings and thus could never have afforded a private opera box to such a prestigious show. So where do you think he acquired the funds for such a luxury and why is he seeking out the company of one of the Faerghus nobles whose loyalty is most ambiguous? I think I shall take a closer look at our budget logs when we return. Some liberties might have been taken within them.”

Ferdinand followed Hubert’s gaze through the crowd and took stock of the two men standing on the other side of the portico, chatting amiably. 

“Suspicious indeed,” he remarked. “Well, I am glad the night will have some other form of diversion for you in case the performance is not to your taste.”

Hubert did not reply, continuing his study of Minister Erinor in brooding silence. He was obviously going to be attentive company tonight, just not to Ferdinand.

“Ah, the doors are opening. Let us go in and find our seats,” Ferdinand said. On a whim, he offered Hubert his arm, but Hubert did not seem to notice and after a second Ferdinand lowered it, silently cursing his own foolishness.

“Gallery seats?” Hubert said with raised eyebrows as Ferdinand led him through the aisles of the theater to their spots in a middle row on the main floor.

“I told you, tickets were hard to come by. I had to make do with the last ones available. I am sorry,” Ferdinand replied.

Hubert stared at him, a bit of amusement betrayed in the crooked corners of his lips. “You are the second most powerful leader in the Empire. You don’t have to buy tickets. You can just have a word with the theater manager and he would set some aside for you.”

“Hubert! You think I would abuse my position in such a way for nought but my own pleasure? Unconscionable!”

He shrugged. “Your work is exhaustive. I am sure it warrants some simple pleasures once in a while as a reprieve.”

That sounded almost, _almost_ , like a compliment and Ferdinand felt his heart warm a bit, but he refused to back down from his indignation. He huffed in annoyance and sat down, crossing his legs and folding his hands gracefully on his knee. He turned his attention to the stage and listened to the reverberating harmonies of the orchestra tuning their instruments.

From his pockets hidden under his voluminous cape, Hubert produced a pair of opera glasses and Ferdinand glanced at them in surprise. “Those are an antique,” he said, reaching over to take them from him and study the intricate decorative carvings on their gilded sides. They were subtle but lovely, not something he would ever expect Hubert to even think to bring, let alone own.

“I have been to an opera before,” he said stiffly. “Believe it or not, I am not without capacity to appreciate things other than work and war.”

“I most certainly believe it. I would not have brought you if I thought you would not enjoy it.”

Hubert was silent for a long moment then he said something so quietly Ferdinand could not hear it over the orchestra.

“What was that?”

“Thank you,” Hubert said, “for this. You should have spent your precious ticket on someone whose company would be more pleasant. But I am nonetheless grateful you chose me, however disappointing a decision it will likely be for you.”

“Nonsense,” Ferdinand replied. He reached over and patted Hubert’s gloved hand lightly. “Your company, although indeed notorious for being far from affable, is still preferable to me over anyone else’s.”

He saw out of the corner of his eye that Hubert gave him a strange look in response but he determinedly kept his eyes fixed on the empty stage, a little afraid that Hubert would read all that those words implied in his eyes if he were to meet his gaze.

Hubert was like a skittish horse. Ferdinand knew he had to approach sideways and slow, the same he would with a spooked colt. Direct eye contact and forward motions were not going to work.

“It is starting!” he said eagerly as the magical lights dimmed and moved to hover over the stage. “Are you familiar with _The Last Eve of Spring_?”

Hubert did not reply. He raised the opera glasses to his eyes but instead of watching the opening act of the play, he craned his neck around to look up at Minister Erinor’s box.

Aster von Morveng in the role of Philia glided onto the stage, followed by the famous tenor Lucas Davan playing the Prince. As the opening refrains flowed through the theater with the same glistening and enchanting warmth of Garland Moon sunlight, Ferdinand relaxed in his seat and let his tension give way to enjoyment of the music.

“I saw this during its original run when Manuela played Philia. I was only a schoolboy but I remember it vividly. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever witnessed,” Ferdinand whispered in Hubert’s ear, attempting to draw his attention away from Minister Erinor.

“As did I,” Hubert murmured. “I accompanied Her Highness when she came to see it. It was the night we met Dorothea.”

“Back when she was understudy for Manuela? You know she played Philia in the last performance of the show.”

Hubert nodded, lowering his opera glasses and turning his gaze to the stage at last. “I am sure she played the part admirably. The keys that Arturo preferred during the early years of his career when he wrote _The Last Eve of Spring_ suit her range well.”

Ferdinand smiled, some of his hopes for the night restored.

They fell silent as the music swelled and the opening song led into the start of the plot. For quite some time, Hubert listened with full attention and aside from stealing the occasional fond glance at his captivated expression, Ferdinand did as well.

His heart ached when intermission came and he realized they were already halfway through with the wondrous experience. He could sit and listen to the music all night. 

“I cannot wait for the Dark Swan Aria after intermission!” he gushed. “It is my favorite piece from the score and I cannot wait to hear Aster sing it. Although she is no Dorothea, her stage presence and voice are quite-”

But Hubert was not listening.

“Pardon me,” he said and stood up abruptly, drawing looks from the people around them. 

“Hubert!” Ferdinand whispered sternly as the man started to walk away. His heart sank for a moment until obstinance replaced his disappointment. Leaping to his feet, he made his way down the row of seats, murmuring apologies and making sure not to trod on anyone’s feet. When he reached the aisle, he walked quickly towards the doors of the theater that Hubert had vanished through a moment ago.

He knew exactly where to find him.

“Hubert!” he hissed as, sure enough, in the hallway of the second floor outside Minister Erinor’s private box, he caught sight of a familiar shadow lurking behind the curtain.

Hubert shot him a panicked look, put a finger to his lips, then motioned for him to go away. Ferdinand crossed his arms over his chest and stood in the hallway.

 _‘Go!’_ Hubert mouthed silently with an insistent look.

Ferdinand raised his eyebrows.

With a furious expression, Hubert turned away, slinking further into the shadows and attempting to overhear what was going on inside the opera box. After taking a quick look around to make sure he was not being watched, Ferdinand ducked behind the curtain beside Hubert and whispered, “If you stay here past intermission, I will have a very inconvenient and loud coughing fit here that will no doubt warrant investigation.”

“You wouldn’t dare."

“Wouldn’t I?”

Hubert glanced at him in horror and Ferdinand smiled stubbornly. Footsteps echoed in the hall and Hubert yanked Ferdinand closer so they were completely hidden behind the curtain together as someone passed by. It struck Ferdinand then how extremely close he was at the moment, how he could feel Hubert’s breath on his cheek and how Hubert’s arm stayed tucked around Ferdinand’s waist. It was probably to hold him still out of caution, but Ferdinand did wonder if it was necessary to hold him so very close or so very tightly pressed against him.

The footsteps passed by and Hubert relaxed but did not let go. Ferdinand turned his face to him and whispered, “I admit your suspicions are valid, but would your spying not be more effectively conducted afterwards in a place better suited to it than a crowded opera hall?”

“Sshh.”

Holding his breath, Hubert listened and Ferdinand did the same, his own curiosity admittedly piqued despite his annoyance.

The chatter in the hall was too loud to hear clearly the conversation occurring within the box between Erinor and Kleiman but Ferdinand did catch several very significant words and he knew from the alarm on Hubert’s face that he perhaps heard even more.

_Duscur. Independence. Taxes._

Ferdinand might not be the master tactition and spy of the Empire, but even he could put two and two together. Kleiman’s strict taxes on Duscur were a source of wealth the noble was going to lose if the negotiations going on with the people of Duscur were to result in Duscur’s independence, as Edelgard intended them to. And an economic crippling of a wealthy house in Faerghus would ripple back to Adrestria in the form of less coins to line the pocket of their apparently despicable Minister of Finance, especially if some of those coins came in the form of bribery from Kleiman as Ferdinand now strongly suspected they did.

A mental list of new candidates for the cabinet position already started to form in Ferdinand’s mind but he filed the thought away for later.

Hubert clutched his arm and started to turn away to leave their hiding place when he froze at the sound of more approaching footsteps. But these were not the light click of heeled boots or the soft tread of elegant satin slippers. These were the measured and purposeful steps of a soldier in practical boots.

The footsteps stopped outside the door of the opera box, mere feet away from their hiding place.

From the stage came the muffled sound of the second half of the opera being introduced. The noise of conversation quieted and the orchestra began to play. The guard outside Erinor’s box did not move.

Ferdinand gave Hubert a questioning look to which Hubert tapped the side of his head to signal that he was working on thinking of a way out of this that didn’t involve hiding here for the entire last hour and a half of the play and then the half hour afterwards as people leisurely milled out of the theater.

After a minute longer, Hubert leaned in so his lips were brushing Ferdinand’s ear and breathed, “Keep hold of my hand.”

Before Ferdinand could wonder what that meant, Hubert leapt free of their hiding place, yanking Ferdinand after him. With his other hand, he seized hold of the guard’s arm and in the same instant the nauseating lurch of a warp spell wrenched them all away.

They materialized a second later somewhere dark and cramped. Immediately, Ferdinand sprang into action, tackling the man and wrestling his arms behind his back. Hubert produced two sets of metal cuffs out of nowhere and shackled the man’s ankles and wrists as Ferdinand clamped his hand over the man’s mouth to muffle him.

As soon as their captive was subdued, Hubert hastily cast a silence ward over the space which Ferdinand now recognized.

“Is this my own carriage?” he asked.

“Don’t worry; your driver will not be alarmed by me using it as an interrogation chamber. I pay him well for his discretion,” Hubert said.

“My coachman is in your employ?” Ferdinand demanded. “Does he report on my comings and goings to you then?”

Hubert gave him a glare that said _‘not now’_ to which Ferdinand replied with a thunderous look that said _‘we will most certainly have words about this later’_ to which Hubert shrugged.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny vial, which he uncorked all while studying the man in front of him. 

“Open his mouth,” he ordered Ferdinand.

Grasping the man’s jaw, Ferdinand pried his mouth open despite the man’s best attempts to struggle. Hubert tipped the vial up to his lips and poured its contents down the man’s throat, forcing him to swallow.

“There. A bit of truth potion will loosen his tongue,” Hubert said. “Thank you, Ferdinand.”

Ferdinand kept hold of the guard and watched warily as Hubert sat down on the bench across from them and rested his elbows on his knees calmly.

“You work for Margrave Kleiman,” he said to the man. “You’re a mercenary.” He pointed at the man’s boots, which upon Ferdinand’s brief study did look like those of a soldier, but they were not of the standard style of a military man’s. “One of Kleiman’s private army to keep Duscur in line with paying their taxes.”

The man glared back at Hubert and did not reply.

“How long has he been consorting with Minister Erinor?” Hubert asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about and if you think you can get any information out of-” He was cut off by a gasp as he began to choke as if throttled by invisible hands.

“Ah, the truth potion is taking effect. Excellent,” Hubert said. He withdrew a knife from a sheath in his boot and played with it idly, his composure chillingly calm and his presence terrifying in a way that awed Ferdinand. He had never seen Hubert in his element like this. 

“How long has Kleiman been plotting with Minister Erinor?” Hubert asked again without even bothering to look up at the man. He was staring down at the knife.

“Since-” The man choked again and Ferdinand kept tight hold of his cuffed wrists as he writhed in fury. “Since Guardian Moon.”

“When the independence negotiations began,” Ferdinand said.

Hubert did not acknowledge his pointing out of the obvious.

“Who else is a part of their conspiracies?” Hubert asked the guard.

“I don’t know,” he gritted out between clenched teeth.

“Maybe you don’t. He would doubtless not confide in a hired sword. But you will have seen things, people coming and going. Any faces you recognized?” Hubert asked.

The man did not answer.

“Come now. You will know the faces of the Faerghus leaders at least. What other houses are privy to this sabotage plan?” Hubert said.

The man did not answer, but this time Hubert lunged forward abruptly and pressed the edge of the dagger against his neck.

“Kill me,” the guard gasped. “Go ahead.”

“I will. The question is how quickly.”

The man spat a curse as Hubert dug the edge of the blade into his neck, not enough to harm him but enough to draw blood.

“Who else?” he asked again, with a quiet but undeniably savage tone to his voice. He raised the dagger and traced it in a faint line around the man’s ear. 

“Gideon,” the man said nervously. “I don’t know if he’s part of it, but he visited the margrave before we came here.”

“Good, good. Who else? I want at least two more names,” Hubert said. He pricked the man’s scalp with the knife then raised his other hand and touched the small cut. A glow of healing magic came to his fingers and the cut fused back up. “You know the remarkable thing about knowing both faith magic and dark magic?” he mused.

Ferdinand had to grip the man tighter as he struggled desperately. The man was sweating and dread was etched across his face.

“The combination of the two are extraordinarily useful in situations like this. See, if I were to slice off your ear, for instance, you might become light-headed with blood loss and not be very clear in your answers. But if I stop the bleeding…”

Looking over at Hubert, Ferdinand searched his expression intently for a moment. He knew Hubert better than anyone and even he could not tell if he was serious or bluffing.

“Mateus,” the man said.

“One more. You have until the count of five,” Hubert said, flicking his blade across the man’s earlobe. “One.” 

“Hubert…” Ferdinand whispered.

Hubert ignored him. “Two.”

The man ceased struggling, frozen rigid with fear as Hubert traced the tip of the knife around his ear. 

“Three.”

“Hubert,” Ferdinand said again.

“Four.”

“An Adrestrian!” the man gasped. “I don’t know his name.”

“What did he look like?” Hubert demanded, pausing his movement of the knife.

“Tall. Long dark hair. Thin mustache. Richly dressed.”

Recognition dawned on Ferdinand and he looked at Hubert worriedly. Hubert met his eyes for an instant with a knowing look then returned his attention to the guard.

“Thank you. You have been very useful. Unfortunately, I cannot allow word to reach Erinor that it is I who am on his trail, especially not if he is associating with Arundel,” he said. He paused for a moment then said, “Ferdinand, will you step out of the carriage, please?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ferdinand,” Hubert pleaded.

“If you are to spill blood all over my carriage, I do not see why it should spare my fine coat. It is not as if I can return to the opera now. Let us finish this.”

“Ferdinand, get out.”

Ferdinand stared him down. “What are you going to do with the body?”

“That is none of your concern.”

“I am embroiled in this whether you like it or not. I might as well make myself useful.”

“I would never ask you to witness, let alone be accessory to the work I-” Hubert began but Ferdinand reached out and grabbed the dagger, wresting it from his grip with ease. 

Without hesitation, he plunged it straight into the man’s heart. It was a precise stab, rupturing the vital organ and killing him within seconds – a merciful death. Ferdinand had doled out far, far worse on the battlefield. Even the most practiced lancework still left wounded corpses to slowly bleed out in the mud or be trampled beneath the hooves of warhorses. 

A swift clean stab to the heart was perhaps the least regrettable death he had dealt in his lifetime.

Hubert stared at him in astonishment.

Wiping the dagger on the man’s coat, Ferdinand held it out to Hubert. “Where do you dispose of bodies?” he asked.

“Many places. I…” Hubert fought to regain his composure for a moment then he masked his shock behind his usual impassive manner. “The docks will be closest. I will warp us so that your carriage is not seen leaving the theater yet.”

Ferdinand nodded and took hold of Hubert’s arm. “Let us go.”

Another wrenching warp spell and they reappeared on a dark, empty dock on the river. Hubert dropped the body of the dead man and raised his hands, channeling his magic. Then he said, “Step back.”

Ferdinand obeyed and a searing inferno of fire engulfed the man as Hubert cast the fire spell. It licked away at the corpse for several moments until Hubert released the spell and the flames settled, leaving behind a body too charred to be identifiable.

A pang of sorrow struck Ferdinand’s heart at the sight. He had not witnessed death in a while; it was true. But he had witnessed it enough to no longer have the luxury of being disturbed at such a sight.

He picked up a scrap of rope from the dock and tied it securely around a brick which he fastened to the man's ankle. Then he took a deep breath, picked up the smoking corpse, wincing at the stench, and threw it into the river where it vanished beneath the dark surface.

Peeling off his stained gloves, Ferdinand tucked them into his pocket and sighed. He glanced down at his sleeves, ruined now with blood and ash.

“Ferdinand,” Hubert said in a strained, hesitant voice.

“My cufflinks are scuffed,” Ferdinand remarked. “What a shame.”

Hubert moved over to stand beside him and leaned against the railing of the dock. “Pity. They were very fine cufflinks. The silver suited the color of the jacket well.”

Ferdinand glanced up at him, a smile on his lips despite the gravity of their circumstances. “Yes, I rather thought so.”

“I am…” Hubert paused, lowering his gaze to the ground. “I am sorry about tonight. I wish you had taken someone else with you. I have ruined not only your night, but much greater things as well.”

“You and I have discovered something of grave import,” Ferdinand argued. “I grieve that we were not able to see the rest of the play, but I have no regrets as to why we abandoned it. The independence negotiations with Duscur absolutely cannot be sabotaged! We have to stop Kleiman and Erinor.”

Hubert nodded. “Indeed. But your arena is the courtroom these days just as it once was the battlefield. It has never been the shadows. It has never been… this. That is my domain and I have purposefully kept those who I care about from having to witness it.” Hubert raised his eyes to meet Ferdinand’s, sad and defiant all at once, as if resigned to Ferdinand’s judgment but refusing to stand before it with shame.

“I have never sought to aid you in your work because I lack the subtlety for it, not because I thought myself above getting my hands dirty,” Ferdinand argued, hating the way he could practically feel Hubert withdrawing from him, retreating so far behind his stern and dispassionate manner that Ferdinand feared he might never see the real Hubert he loved again unless he confronted Hubert’s assumptions directly and immediately.

“Hubert,” he said firmly. “It is true I had no particular wish to be burning and disposing of bodies tonight on what was supposed to be a reprieve from our work, but I will do what must be done, the same as you. You and I… the days of feeling aversions to such ruthlessness passed years ago. We have fought a war. We have yet one ahead of us someday, once our plans against Arundel are prepared. I will always do what must be done and I would rather fight that fight alongside you than each of us alone in our separate spheres. After all, we make a good team when we deign to set aside our petty complaints.”

Hubert smiled just slightly at his reference to their morning banter.

“I know you have fought more battles than I have even. And yet there has always remained something pure about you, Ferdinand. I do not wish to sully that as I have tonight.”

Ferdinand swept his hair over his shoulder to get it out of his eyes and frowned at Hubert. “I thought our days of having flawed perceptions of one another were over. You and I are but two sides of the same coin. It is precisely why we are an effective team. It is why Edelgard relies on us to counsel her. It is why, with you, I feel so at ease, and so-” He caught himself, realizing where the sentence was headed and knowing that he could not, he absolutely _could not_ , choose this moment to say the thing he had been preparing to confess tonight. 

“So what?” Hubert said quietly.

“Free,” Ferdinand answered at last. “Around everyone else I must be Ferdinand von Aegir, in all that entails. Around you, I have come to feel that I can just be Ferdinand. And that is a rare and precious relief.”

Hubert stared at him for a long moment then nodded in understanding.

“I wish you to feel free with me,” Ferdinand added. “You were beginning to, I think, but after the events of tonight, I fear all my progress will be lost.”

“Progress?” Hubert echoed.

“I have spent many years now slowly pushing my way through your defenses to become your friend. I will not stand for having to start that long and arduous journey all over again if you retreat from me after tonight.”

Turning away from him, Hubert said after a pause, “Come. We should leave this place before we are seen. My magic must recover for a while before I can cast another warp spell, but when it does, we will go somewhere and clean up then return to the theater so we can be seen leaving it at the end of the show.”

He walked away and Ferdinand fell into step beside him. “It is a pity we missed the Dark Swan Aria.”

“It is your favorite, I know,” Hubert said. “I am sorry. Truly.”

“It is a pity, but it is not your fault. Perhaps I shall be able to acquire us tickets again sometime. Would you come with me again if I did?”

Hubert offered him a small, tentative smile. “I would enjoy that. I too wish we could have stayed for the whole performance. It was… extraordinary.”

As they walked, Ferdinand peeled off his bloodstained coat and tied its arms around his waist. The evening was mild and he tugged loosened his cravat and rolled up his shirtsleeves. There was no point in formality now, after all. 

Once they left the docks behind, they came to a walking path along the river and a bench that overlooked its banks. The moon was starting to rise and its light glittered on the water with a serenity that distracted Ferdinand from the grim reason they were here beside the river.

“There is much for me to do tonight. Your coachman will have delivered orders to my spies by now to start digging on Erinor and the rest of these bastards. I will likely be busy for quite some time unraveling this mess. So let us linger here for a moment and rest. It will be a long night for me. I wish to enjoy at least a few minutes of it with you before abandoning all hope of leisure,” Hubert said, sitting down on the bench.

Ferdinand sat beside him but his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Kleiman and Duscur and whatever nefarious part Arundel had to play in this. He all but forgot about Hubert’s presence beside him for a bit until a sound startled him out of his thoughts.

Was Hubert humming?

Ferdinand glanced at him in surprise but Hubert avoided his gaze resolutely, leaning back and staring up at the night sky. But he continued to hum the tune of the Dark Swan Aria and when Ferdinand relaxed and joined him, he smiled slightly.

Then something even more unexpected happened that stole Ferdinand’s breath away.

_“Can you see me even though_

_I am nought but black feathers in the night?_

_I shall call for you even as the wind carries away my voice,_

_shall sing even if it is lost in the noise…”_

Hubert’s voice, so husky and low it was hardly more than a whisper, held Ferdinand spellbound. Although he was shocked that Hubert knew every word of the aria and even more astonished that he would dare to sing them, it was not shock that overwhelmed Ferdinand, but rather an emotion he could not have articulated, even with the extent of his noble vocabulary at his disposal.

The feeling held a similar warmth to joy but was gentler, all the ache of yearning but without its pain. It thrilled him and yet he felt perfectly calm, content to be silent and listen.

As Hubert sang, voice growing slightly bolder and clearer, the feeling grew within Ferdinand until his chest ached with the struggle to contain it.

Before he knew what he was doing, he found his hand moving of its own accord towards Hubert’s, fingers gliding across his. It was the faintest touch and yet it startled Hubert into silence as he looked over at Ferdinand sharply.

“Please, do not stop,” Ferdinand murmured. 

Hubert cleared his throat awkwardly. “I don’t know what came over me. I suppose I felt bad for you missing your favorite song of the opera on my account.” 

“I would rather listen to you sing it than anyone else,” he answered. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I…”

When Hubert began to shift his hand away, Ferdinand’s followed and grasped it as if by intertwining their fingers he could hold together the spell of the moment before it unwound so he could linger in its enchantment a while longer.

“Please,” Ferdinand whispered again. “Sing it. I am enjoying listening to you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t remember how the last verse goes.”

“Oh. I- I am afraid I cannot either. I can hear the melody in my head but the words are…” Ferdinand made the mistake of meeting Hubert’s gaze and noticing the stunning intensity of it. He felt very breathless all of a sudden. “…eluding me.” 

Hubert grip on his hand tightened, his thumb brushing across the skin on Ferdinand's wrist. The fleeting touch raced eclectic all the way up his arm and he shivered.

Relentless, Hubert continued to stare and Ferdinand felt exposed under the inspection of those keen and lovely eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but could not fathom a single word to break the silence.

Unlike him, Hubert was more comfortable with silence. He did not back down from it.

Ferdinand held his breath. He waited. He forced his body to remain still and the wild thoughts in his head to stay under control lest he break under the fierce strain of them and give in to the longing to reach out with his other hand and touch not Hubert’s hand or arm or shoulder but rather his face, to place his palm on his cheek and trace the lines of his brow with his fingertips and brush his thumb across his lips, listen to Hubert’s breath catch, watch his mouth open instinctively in a silent confession that he too longed for something he had never dared to consider possible, that he too wanted… 

His self-control shattered. He reached desperately for Hubert, fingers ending up tangling in his hair, hand cradling the back of his head as he pulled him down to him. He hardly needed to. Hubert leaned in without urging, lips catching his with a startled gasp that turned into a hum of satisfaction as Ferdinand kissed him.

By every custom and courtesy, a first kiss was supposed to be brief and chaste, to hint at feelings not yet fully revealed. But Ferdinand felt overwhelmed with the weight of all the moments in which this kiss should have happened sooner: the mornings before battles when he would look at Hubert and wonder if it was the last time he would see him and why that thought frightened him to his core, the nights when they would stay up late working together and he would murmur a quiet goodnight as he left Hubert’s office to trudge back to his bed alone, the warm afternoons in the garden as they argued over cups of tea and coffee and the sunlight sparkled so beautifully in Hubert’s eyes.

Every single moment across the years where he should have kissed him swept over him in this one and he felt an irrational need to make up for them. Letting go of Hubert’s hair, Ferdinand threw his arms around his neck and leaned closer until their bodies were nearly pressed together. 

Tilting his head to the side, he kissed him deeper, with no constraints imposed upon his longing and joy. And to his relief, Hubert did not pull away.

When at last the kiss came to an end, Ferdinand breathed a quiet laugh of happiness and leaned his forehead against Hubert’s. “I promised myself tonight would be my night for bravery,” he whispered. “And so it has been.”

“Ferdinand,” Hubert said, seemingly at a loss to find any other words.

“Is it safe to assume that the feelings I intended to make known to you tonight are not unreciprocated?” Ferdinand dared.

“If your feeling is shock, it is most definitely reciprocated,” Hubert said. 

“How can it come as such a surprise to you? I have sought your company constantly and made it quite obvious how much I admire you.”

“I thought… I always assumed that there was no way… That I…” Hubert sighed in frustration at his own inarticulateness and grabbed Ferdinand’s face in his hands, kissing him again passionately.

Closing his eyes, Ferdinand lost himself in the warmth of his lips and the bewitching tenderness of his touch.

He would likely not see _The Last Eve of Spring_ again this season. But in that moment, he could not care less at the direction their night had turned, given that somehow, gloriously and miraculously, it had ended here.


	3. Act Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard has a change of heart and, due to Hubert's impertinent interference, a chance to act on it.

This old palace was so drafty at night. Wrapping her cloak tighter around herself, Edelgard strode down the hallway, avoiding the gazes of her ancestors following her from the paintings lit by candle sconces. She was used to their staring by now and yet the impulse to take them down and replace each venerable portrait with the simple sketches of wildflowers that Bernadetta drew often struck her when she passed them by.

Thankfully it was not a long walk to Hubert’s chambers. She quickened her steps as she drew close and eagerly raised her hand to knock then froze as a sound came within.

Laughter.

Her mouth opened slightly in astonishment.

Ferdinand’s voice chased the sound with some boisterous comment and although Edelgard could not make out the words of what he said, his fond and teasing tone was unmistakable. And that laugh… That was Hubert’s laugh; she was certain of it. What a rare and precious sound.

She realized she still had her fist raised to knock and she lowered her hand awkwardly. She hesitated a moment more, listening to the muffled tones of their banter, then she turned and walked away.

She felt strangely lost, weightless in an unsettling way like a ship unmoored and left adrift on the water. Her feet took her of their own accord to the private walled garden in the heart of the palace where she could stray peacefully like a ghost among the ferns and flowers.

So Hubert’s opportunity had come and he had pursued it. Her heart swelled with emotion: happiness for her dearest friend, but also an undeniable twinge of pain. 

Settling on a bench, Edelgard planted her palms on its cold stone surface and leaned back to stare up at the patterns of moonlight spilling through the branches of the ornamental plum trees.

She had known two versions of Hubert over the years. 

Past Hubert, back when they were children, was quiet but not bereft of humor and delight. He was slow to smile but when one of her silly antics finally provoked him, his smile was genuine and unrestrained. He was meant to be her protective shadow and nothing more, but through sheer force of will little Edelgard had made him her playmate and confidant.

Present Hubert was the version she had met upon her return to Enbarr as a teenager after her years of imprisonment. Back then, he had felt almost like a stranger – grim, haunted, frightening. He was as passionate as he used to be, if not more, but so self-controlled he seemed cold as ice at times. Over the past few years she had slowly thawed him enough to form a friendship once more, but she had also relied upon this new coldness of his. As the path before the Flame Emperor had grown bloodier and more wearying, Hubert had stepped up to bear much of the burden of it upon his rigid shoulders.

But now with Ferdinand, Edelgard wondered if she would see another version of him yet again. She wondered if, as trauma had hardened him, joy would now gentle him. She wondered if he would finally move past the man he had been forced to become during the war, the same way Ferdinand was, the same way Dorothea was, the same way all of her friends were.

She wondered if by doing so, she would be left behind, the sole remnant of those dark days.

With a sigh of disgust at her own self-pity, she jumped to her feet and paced back and forth across the garden path.

Never at any point during the course of her adult life had she considered happiness of an intimate and romantic kind to be a possibility. The satisfactions she knew, those she hoped for, lay in the accomplishment of her responsibilities and ambitions.

She had switched the stifling armor of the Flame Emperor for the heavy horned crown of the Conqueror. Perhaps these symbols bound her as tightly as the Agarthan shackles of her childhood, but these constraints she had at least chosen herself and she wore them with power and purpose. It frightened her sometimes that she could not take them off, but that did not mean that she wished to.

Maybe a day would come when Minister von Vestra could simply be Hubert. But a day would never come when she would just be Edelgard.

“This is foolishness,” she muttered to herself, brushing stray petals from her cloak and turning back to the palace doors. It was late. She should sleep.

  
  


She did sleep, but it was not restful. Old dreams resurfaced to dog her subconscious and their return cast a shadow across her morning that not even the beauty of the golden summer dawn could ease. She stopped on her walk to her office to gaze at the watercolor clouds lit by the rising sun but she could not focus on the sight; her mind was too restless.

But as she stepped into her office, she finally felt her heart stir a bit from its listless state, for on her desk was a vase of fresh carnations in a multitude of artfully arranged shades varying from deep crimson to pale dusty pink. And on a note tied to the vase with a simple black ribbon:

_ ‘Dearest Edie, _

_ ‘In case you are too busy to leave your office today, I have brought a little of the outside world to you. I hear you are to leave for Faerghus the day after next. Will I see you before then? _

_ ‘Your friend, _

_ ‘Dorothea.’ _

Edelgard smiled and set down the note. Plucking one of the carnations from the vase, she trimmed its stem with a knife and tucked the flower into her braid at the base of her crown. It would make Dorothea happy when she saw it later.

Grabbing a pen and a scrap of paper she jotted down,

_ ‘The garden at eleven? Tea and an early lunch?’ _

“Deliver this to Miss Arnault,” she said, handing the note to an attendant. “Thank you.”

“Lovely,” Hubert commented as he stepped into her office, picking up one of the carnations and sniffing it suspiciously.

“They are from Dorothea,” Edelgard said. “They’re not poisoned.”

He muttered something about  _ never being too careful _ and walked over to the window, drawing the shades closed. Magic glowed in his palms for a minute as he cast an intricate set of warding spells across the room then locked the door.

“Are you expecting assassins?” Edelgard asked, settling into her chair and sipping her morning tea. 

Hubert did not immediately reply because he had apparently decided that his current barrage of wards were not enough and was busy fastidiously casting more.

“How was the opera?” she asked.

“Excellent,” he replied, distracted by his spells.

“And did you have a good night?” Edelgard could not restrain the urge to tease him and asked innocently, “Sleep well?”

Hubert stiffened a bit and although his back was to her at the moment she could see the tips of his ears get a little red. “Very well. How was your evening, my lady?”

Oh he must be flustered if he was returning to his old formalities.

“Uneventful, unlike yours,” she replied.

Hubert finished his second round of spells and turned back to face her. Leaning against the edge of her desk, he crossed his arms over his chest and Edelgard saw immediately from the look on his face that something was wrong. Much like the various types of his silences, Edelgard had come to know the nuances of his grim expressions well too and she could tell that this one was grim in the way that signaled bad news.

“Minister Erinor is conspiring with Margrave Kleiman and several other Faerghus nobles to sabotage the Duscur negotiations.”

“What?” Edelgard gasped.

“Arundel is a part of this as well, although I have yet to ascertain in what capacity.”

“That is even worse news. I would arrest that bastard Erinor immediately but if Arundel is involved then everything is far too complicated to act swiftly on.”

“Indeed. I am afraid that decisive action cannot be taken until I have come to the bottom of this.” Hubert stared down at the floor with a thoughtful frown. “But I shall and we will deal with Erinor when I do.”

“Tell me everything you know so far and how you discovered it,” Edelgard said.

Hubert nodded. “I owe it to Ferdinand’s opera tickets, strangely enough.”

By the time he finished telling her the story of his night, Edelgard’s fists were clenched at her side and she was pacing back and forth across her office.

A knock on the door startled her and she glanced at Hubert worriedly but his expression was unconcerned as he walked over, ubolted the series of locks, and opened the door. Ferdinand was standing outside, looking put-together and elegant as always, but Edelgard still noticed the shadows under his eyes that betrayed his lack of sleep.

“Might I intrude?” he asked.

“Just get in here,” Hubert said, yanking Ferdinand into the office and locking up the door behind him.

“Good morning, Edelgard,” Ferdinand said with a short bow. His gaze strayed to Hubert and lingered just a moment too long, the slightest hint of a smile passing across his lips. “Good morning, Minister von Vestra,” he added courteously.

“Save your formal ‘good mornings,’ Ferdinand. She knows,” Hubert said.

Ferdinand huffed and looked both taken aback and embarrassed at the same time. “Of course she does. How silly of me to expect to have any subjects, no matter the…  _ intimate _ nature of them, remain private despite-”

“I know what happened with Erinor and Kleiman,” Edelgard interrupted before an argument could break out between the two of them. “Tell me your own account of the evening and what your suggestions are on how to handle this troubling matter.”

Ferdinand obeyed, ease returning to his manner as he fell back into the familiarity of their professional roles. Edelgard listened carefully, interjecting from time to time to ask questions and seek Hubert’s opinion in conjunction with Ferdinand’s. But no matter how pressing the matters at hand, she still found some amusement in watching Ferdinand and Hubert slowly and nearly imperceptibly gravitate towards one another over the course of the discussion.

By the time two hours had passed, he and Ferdinand were seated next to each other, having chosen – whether consciously or unconsciously, Edelgard could not tell – the small divan in her office in favor of their typical chairs. At first they sat as far apart as possible but somehow they ended up close enough that Ferdinand’s legs were leaning against Hubert’s and Hubert’s hand was resting lightly on his knee.

Although they bickered and sniped at each other with their usual acerbic balance of respect and disrespect, they also listened to each other more attentively and came to reasonable conclusions with each other with less arduous effort than normal.

Still, it took the entirety of the morning to settle upon a plan of action, for they were oft interrupted with meticulously coded missives from Hubert’s spies that continuously shed new light upon matters. 

By the time Edelgard thought to check the time, she realized with a brief pang of panic that it was past noon.

“Is something the matter?” Hubert asked her.

“I…” Edelgard’s heart ached but she knew her opportunity to see Dorothea had passed and even if she made time to seek her out, she would still be unable to undo the strain of disappointment her negligence had caused. “It’s nothing,” she finished. “I just had not realized it was so late in the day already.”

Dorothea would understand, of course. She was never so selfish as to expect Edelgard to shirk responsibilities to see her. But that was exactly what pained Edelgard most. She feared the closeness of their friendship was sometimes a cruelty to Dorothea more than a comfort.

She deserved better. She deserved the world and someone who could give her their deepest, most devoted and undivided attention and-

“Good heavens it is late! Let us send for some lunch,” Ferdinand exclaimed. “We have not even had breakfast nor coffee yet.”

Hubert, who was still watching Edelgard with a concerned look, nodded and said, “Yes. Please do, Ferdinand.”

As Ferdinand left, Hubert wandered over to her desk and examined the vase of carnations again. “I was thinking…” he began.

“About?”

“Your trip to Faerghus.”

“I can’t cancel it, even with all that is afoot.”

“I know. And investigating this means I shall need to stay in Enbarr. I was thinking who would be the best person to send with you in my stead.”

“I don’t require a bodyguard, Hubert,” Edelgard replied.

“No, you don’t,” he agreed. “But it would be good for you to not go alone.”

“Who would you recommend? Because if you stick me in a carriage for longer than an hour with Caspar, I fear I shall lose my patience. He snores insufferably loud.”

Hubert chuckled. “No, I would not wish that fate upon anyone other than Linhardt.” He brushed his fingers across the petals of the carnations and said, “I would like to ask Dorothea to accompany you.”

“Dorothea?” Edelgard said, glancing up from the paperwork she was perusing to glance at him sharply. “Why?”

“You are aware that she has served as one of my spies for years now, are you not?” he said.

“So you want to send her so she can report on my dealings to you?” 

“I have other people for that,” he said. “I want to send her because she is one of the few people I would entrust-” He hesitated then finished the sentence. “-with you.”

“She is an accomplished mage,” Edelgard agreed.

“She is your friend,” Hubert said. “Her devotion to you is second only to mine and for that I trust her implicitly.”

Edelgard’s face felt uncomfortably hot and she turned away so Hubert could not see her expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Don’t say cryptic things like that to me. Speak your mind, Hubert,” Edelgard commanded.

“I am,” he said. “And I should have far sooner, but I was blind. I did not recognize the importance of such things, as you well know. I have reconsidered my views on the matter. I think maybe they are more important than anything.”

“I can’t ask her to come with me. It would be risky. I don’t want to drag her into politics. She might serve as your spy but she still remains in her world of music and theater and doesn’t have to navigate the dangerous waters of government.”

“Then let her go as your retainer, not your advisor or bodyguard.”

Edelgard clutched at the quill in her hand until she realized she was gripping it so hard it might snap. She exhaled a tense breath and said, “I will consider it.”

“Please do. It would be awkward to tell her to stay when I have already asked her to accompany you and arranged for her travel accommodations.”

“Hubert!” Edelgard reprimanded, whirling around to face him. “How could you without consulting me first!”

He smiled slightly and gave her a knowing look. “I thought you valued having a Vestra with a mind of his own.”

Edelgard scoffed at having her own words thrown back at her. “Sometimes you go too far.”

“I pray you will forgive me for it,” he said with a short bow. “Now, I will take my leave briefly to see to procuring that lunch with Ferdinand.”

He left before Edelgard could argue further with him and as he closed the door, Edelgard stared blankly at the ground, stunned and feeling a flutter of anxiety in her chest.

“Don’t be a fool,” she chided herself.

  
  


The weight of long nights spent agonizing over details and plots with Ferdinand and Hubert until the early hours of the morning hung heavily over Edelgard as she climbed out of bed the morning of her departure and glanced at the clock.

“Lady Edelgard?” Hubert said, knocking on her door.

“Come in,” she replied with a yawn.

He entered, carrying a tray of tea and breakfast. It was no longer his duty to serve her so closely and yet once in a while he still did in what Edelgard knew was a gesture of affection and respect.

She smiled up at him and took one of the teacups, inhaling the enlivening scent of bergamot gratefully.

They discussed business for a while as she dressed and brushed her hair then Hubert walked over to her chair and took the comb from her hand. He gathered up her long hair and began to braid it into an elegant but less intricate style than her usual attendant did, something more comfortable and suitable to a long day of travel.

Edelgard closed her eyes and leaned back, enjoying the comfort of being cared for. “Can I ask you something, Hubert?”

“With all due respect, my lady, it is more your custom to ask anyways whether I wish you to or not,” he said wryly.

She laughed. “That’s fair I suppose. Well, this time I am asking your permission.”

“Permission granted,” he replied.

“You never told me how it actually happened.”

“How what happened?”

“You and Ferdinand. What happened to change your mind about making your feelings known? You were so determined to never reveal them.”

Hubert did not answer for a long minute and Edelgard wondered if her question had been too prying.

“I acted without thinking,” he said at last, “like a fool.”

“You were very emphatic about us not acting like fools.”

“I was.”

“Do you regret it?”

Hubert finished braiding her hair and looked into the mirror to meet her gaze. “I will never regret it.”

The emotion was so thick and earnest in his voice that Edelgard was at a loss for words to reply. She smiled at him and he smiled back for a moment before turning away.

“Your carriage and entourage are awaiting you in the courtyard,” he said.

“Wait,” Edelgard said. “Let us pass by the garden first.”

“There is no time-”

“Hubert,” she pleaded. “There is something I need to do before we go. It will only take a moment.”

He nodded and followed her to the garden. Edelgard strode purposefully through its winding paths until she found what she was looking for – a bush of deep red heirloom roses. 

“Give me your knife,” she said, holding out her hand.

Hubert pulled a small dagger from his boot and handed it to her. Carefully cutting the flowers at the base of their stems, she gathered enough for a small bouquet.

“There. Now we can go,” she said, giving him back his knife.

Out of the corner of her eye, Edelgard thought she saw Hubert smile, but when she looked at him his neutral expression had returned.

They did not speak as they crossed the palace to the courtyard. It was only as they reached the doors that he finally broke the silence.

“Thank you,” he said out of the blue.

“For what?”

“For telling me that I deserved to be happy.”

“You do,” she replied, thrown off balance by his sincerity yet again.

“I have many ambitions,” he said. “But one of them now is to convince you of the same, however difficult a task that might be.”

Edelgard did not know what to say and before she could find the right words, Hubert opened the door and ushered her outside to the courtyard where there was no longer the privacy to speak freely.

“Have a safe journey, Your Highness,” he said as she approached the carriage. Then after a bow, he walked away.

Edelgard clutched tightly at the bouquet of roses, ignoring the stabs of pain from their thorns, and turned towards her carriage. Behind the curtains was a familiar silhouette waiting for her.

Taking a deep breath, Edelgard stepped forward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and commented on this story! It was a blast to write and thank you so much Ciatokins for suggesting the prompt! I'm sorry again this story got so out of hand!


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